


Don’t Ask

by shutterbug



Category: Ripper Street
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Help, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutterbug/pseuds/shutterbug
Summary: When Jackson shows up at Leman Street with multiple injuries, Edmund just wants to help.
Relationships: Homer Jackson/Edmund Reid
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Don’t Ask

**Author's Note:**

> For @iloveallofyounerds, who asked for “Subtle kindnesses, Ed/Jackson.”

Even after all the years that Edmund had been acquainted with Jackson, he still nearly dropped his coffee when Jackson entered Leman Street. 

Entered with a shuffle. And a set of crutches. Due to what appeared to be a broken shinbone. One eye was blackened. When he smiled, Edmund saw that he had one less tooth. 

“Good God, Jackson, what on earth—”

Jackson raised a hand to silence him. “Don’t ask.” 

“You look like hell,” Edmund said, adopting a casual tone. 

Jackson headed for the corridor to his laboratory, and Edmund ran ahead of him to open the door. “Yeah, well, I feel like it.” 

“But you are…” Edmund followed Jackson into the Dead Room. Today it contained no dead. Jackson, for the moment, bore the closest resemblance to the room’s usual occupants. “All right?”

Jackson shrugged. “More or less.” 

“And you will not say—”

“I told you not to ask.” 

Jackson’s sharp tone made Edmund snap his mouth shut. He tried to inspect him for clues as to how he ended up so battered, but Jackson cut him short. 

“Don’t do that.” 

Edmund feigned ignorance. “Do what?”

“Don’t examine me.” 

“I was not—”

“You were, now knock it off.” 

Edmund huffed, overtaken with the frustration that accompanies helplessness. “Well,” he said. “Can I offer you  _ any  _ help? Provide  _ any  _ assistance?” 

“If you’ve got any—”

But Edmund did not hear the rest of Jackson’s quip—what he was sure was a quip. Instead, he dropped to one knee and reached for Jackson’s shoes. For the laces of his untied boots. 

“You know, Reid, if you wanted to marry me, you could’a picked a better time to ask. I was hopin’ to look a whole lot prettier on my special day.” 

As he tied Jackson’s laces, he peered up at his face and replied, “I thought you instructed me  _ not  _ to ask.” 

Jackson’s lopsided smile sent a shot of satisfaction through his chest. He lowered his head to finish with the laces, then stood up, chest to chest with Jackson. 

For a moment, Jackson stared at him. “Look, it don’t matter what happened. I just want you here, okay?”

Touched, Edmund nodded. His heart seemed to pound in his throat. 

“You know,” Jackson added, a smirk spreading across his face. “‘Cause I’ll need some help on the toilet later.” 


End file.
